Deals and Dreams
by perilousgard
Summary: A retelling of "Dream Hunters" by Neil Gaiman and Yoshitaka Amano. After another plot by Naraku endangers Miroku's life, Sango decides she will do whatever it takes to save him. Miroku must then learn how to get her back to him. MS
1. The Feelings

_Author's Notes: I started this story something like two and a half years ago, so the first chapter is old. Regardless, I think it flows pretty well. _

_This is based off of __**The Sandman: Dream Hunters **__by Neil Gaiman and illustrated by Yoshitaka Amano. I lay no claim to either that fabulous story nor Inuyasha. _

**Deals and Dreams**

**Chapter One: The Feelings**

Among all the horrible days Miroku had experienced since learning of the hanyou Naraku's identity, this was one of the nicer ones. After all, walking around splattered with demon guts certainly wasn't attractive, and Amida knew it smelled even worse. And though it was satisfying to win a battle, too many of them, he felt, were unnecessary.

This particular day, he and his traveling companions were making their way through a forest, still tracking Naraku's castle. Kagome was absent from the party, having vanished down the well to take another one of her "tests". Inuyasha was thus irritable, and had already yelled at Shippou twice. The kitsune had fled to Sango's shoulder, where he hid under her thick hair. Kirara walked beside Miroku, occasionally twining between his legs but avoiding being stepped on. He kept his gaze on Sango's massive weapon, strung across her back, to distract him. Despite the generally nice weather and comfortable silence, the houshi was deeply unsettled.

Absently, he tightened his grip on his staff, thinking that perhaps if he held it tightly enough, the pain would just vanish. Unfortunately, it only sent a sharper ache through the bones of his hand, and he had to keep himself from gasping in surprise.

Of course, he had told his friends from the moment he met them that his life was potentially shortened because of the kazaana. Miroku himself had been preparing for his ultimate end since his father had died when he was a small child. He had not allowed himself to become attached to anyone emotionally, because he feared hurting them, or missing them too much. He thought he had done a good enough job of it—he had flitted desperately from geisha to geisha, never asking their names, losing himself in their nice smells and tastes. He'd conned people to stay alive, drowned his sorrows in alcohol.

But then he met a hanyou, a girl from the future, and a small kitsune.

He'd decided to travel with them. After all, they shared a common goal in hunting Naraku and gathering Shikon shards. He'd never expected to actually make friends with them, at least not expected to be half as close to them as he was.

And there was Sango.

Ah, with Sango…Miroku frowned, reflecting. Kagome was indeed a lovely girl, but after he had endured Inuyasha's wrath the first time he'd laid hands on her in an entirely non-platonic fashion, he'd dropped her quickly. He had felt they were in love, had known it probably even before they had. But then Sango joined them, and oh Amida, she was beautiful. She had eyes deeper than any geisha's, hair softer than a tennyo's, and the nicest bottom he'd ever had the pleasure to stroke. She became Miroku's new favorite hobby.

But she distracted him. He thought of her too often. How had this happened?

She clearly hadn't liked him, not at first. Her repeated slaps made that quite clear. But even though his advances were rejected, the girl spat fire when he tried flirting with someone else. He even began to see hurt in her eyes when he ran these routines, a frown mar her perfect features as she turned her cheek to him. After awhile, he'd unconsciously reduced his flirting, without even thinking about it.

And then there was that annoying habit she had of worrying him.

How many times had he laid his life down for hers? How many times had he blindly gone to rescue her? Too many to keep track of, certainly. Sango was an impulsive woman, and sometimes he just wanted to shake her until her brains rattled, shake her and hold her all at once. If Miroku didn't go after Sango, who would?

And what was more, Sango had always been weighed down by sorrow. If there was anything Miroku had never been able to take, it was a woman crying. So he would go and talk to her when she went off alone, comfort her until her tears stopped, and then he'd normally ruin the mood by touching her. But even though she got mad at him, and he went and did it again, Miroku realized that it always meant something to him when he made her smile.

And so he fought alongside her, walked or sat beside her when he could. She didn't trust him, but he thought she could call him a friend.

So…just how…?

For months on end he had tried to convince himself that he was not in love with her. He'd even meditated on the matter, but there was no helping it—he loved her, and that was that.

Miroku sighed. Would she be sad when the kazaana took him? Would he see her face before he died? Maybe he'd see a few tears fall down her cheeks. But no, he didn't want to see her crying for him, did he? She'd done it before, and Miroku realized it didn't make him feel any better about things.

He nearly stumbled into Inuyasha as the hanyou stopped abruptly, his ears twitching this way and that. "What is it, Inuyasha?" asked Shippou, peeking out from behind Sango's hair.

"Demons," Inuyasha growled. "A whole lot of 'em. And they have a Shikon shard."

"Do you know where?" Miroku asked, then grimaced. Damn that hand.

Inuyasha sniffed in a vaguely doglike manner. "Up the mountain a bit," he replied. "That's where the nest is. It's more of those spider things, I know it." By this he meant the spider demons that the group had been hired to get rid of only a week ago.

"Shall we split up?" Miroku suggested.

"Whatever. I'm going to the top," Inuyasha said, and leapt off.

"Idiot," Miroku sighed, shaking his head. He then turned to the little demon.

"Shippou, why don't you go with Inuyasha?"

"What? He'll kill me!" Shippou wailed.

"Come, now. He wouldn't actually kill you. Besides, if Kagome-sama heard about it, she'd 'sit' him into eternity." He grimaced at his own choice of words. He didn't want to think about _eternity _right now.

Shippou scooted off, and Miroku turned to the huntress. "Shall we go, Sango?"

She scowled at him. "Don't think I don't know what you're up to, Houshi-sama," she said, and walked past him. Chuckling, he followed, leading the way to the entrance of a cave at the base of the mountain.

Standing on the threshold, Miroku was suddenly stopped by a quiet question from his companion. "Houshi-sama, are you okay?"

"Yes," he replied edgily. "Why?"

"It's just that…this whole morning, you've been making these strange faces, like you're in pain. Are you hurt somewhere?" Her curiosity and genuine worry made him wince.

"I'm fine, Sango. Don't worry about me."

"But I _am._" She stepped up beside him, trying to catch his eye. "Is there something you're keeping from me? If you're in any sort of trouble, I—"

"Sango." He interrupted her gently. "Please. Let's worry about our mission first, all right?"

She paused. Something in his tone was different. He hadn't snapped at her; he never had. But there was something; a nuance she hadn't heard before.

Fear, she thought.

She realized he had gone far ahead of her, and ran a bit to catch up.

"They're inside the cave, you think?"

He nodded. "I believe that Inuyasha's assumption was wrong. Spider demons like damp, dark places. What he smelled is probably several days old, perhaps from the last time they fed."

Sango nodded. "I see."

Together, they entered the cave.

This was only the beginning of their journey.

-

-

-

Before Kagome had left, they had been staying in a village.

Miroku had not needed to run a false routine to secure a place for them to stay. He had had every intention of going straight through, as Inuyasha wished, but a family had stopped him and asked if he would perform an exorcism. Miroku had kindly obliged.

Though they had a young daughter, Miroku's behavior stayed strictly professional. This baffled Sango to no end. The daughter was very beautiful, and hinted more than once that she found the monk attractive, but Miroku pretended to be ignorant and pious. Disappointed, the daughter had given up.

Sango wasn't the only one puzzled by his behavior. Kagome and Shippou noticed it too, and kept glancing at Sango, waiting for her to say something.

"Houshi-sama, are you sick?" she asked over dinner, sitting across from him.

He shook his head. "Why do you ask?"

Embarrassed, Sango shook it off. "Mm…no reason."

And that was the end of it. They'd finished their meal and gone to bed.

-

-

-

"It bothers you."

Sango woke to a quiet, low voice in her room. She jerked herself upright, reaching for her weapon, but the voice stopped her. "There's no need for that, Sango."

It was Miroku. Leaning against her wall, watching her.

"What are you doing in here, Houshi-sama?" She was half-asleep, but he still caught the suspicion in her tone.

"It bothers you, Sango. When I flirt with other women. I thought, after the incident with Shima-dono, you'd appreciate my change of heart."

Sango remembered two weeks before, when they'd met the beautiful and wealthy Shima, who had tried to claim Miroku as her husband to protect herself from a demon. Miroku had played off the whole thing calmly, but Sango had caused a scene, as she was wont. The taijiya bent her head in shame. It was always this way. She was the one to get angry, and yell, and run off, and he was the one to pacify her, never raising his voice once.

He had patched things up, of course. _I took advantage of your kindness. Forgive me._

He had saved her. Again.

He had even pulled a Kouga and called her his.

"I'm sorry, Sango. I just thought that—"

"No." She interrupted him, head still bowed. "Don't apologize. I should be grateful. You…you've done so many things for me, and I've brushed them all off like they were nothing."

"I know it's not your style to show your true feelings," Miroku said, "so it's okay. Even if you don't say it, I know."

And she knew then that he sensed her doubt, but that he was trying his best.

-

-

-

They found the spider-youkai nest deep within the cave, and Sango went to destroy it before any unsavory visitors showed up.

Unfortunately, she wasn't quick enough.

Later, she would blame laziness and distraction, even if those weren't the real reasons for her miscalculation. She threw Hiraikotsu, intending to get rid of the nest that way, but the large bone struck rock wall instead, dislodging several large pieces and making quite a racket as they clattered over the ground.

The cave trembled, a few more rocks shaking themselves loose, and Sango cursed.

She and Miroku stood back-to-back, already hearing the shifting and soft _ticktick _of many long legs, moving overhead at a rapid pace.

"I'm sorry, Houshi-sama, but my foolishness calls for a battle," she murmured.

"Don't blame yourself, Sango."

She bit her lip. He knew it was her fault, as well.

His reaction only made her angrier.

The queen spider showed up, jaws clicking, dripping venom, backed up by a horde of her children. Sango threw Hiraikotsu again with a yell, and she and Miroku ran in to fight.

The sounds of battle filled the small chamber. The _whoosh _of Sango's boomerang, her breathless cries, the dying gasps of the youkai, and the smells of blood and sweat surrounded Miroku. He grunted as a baby spider bit into his arm, drawing blood away with poison. He pressed his hand over the wound—Buddha, it had to be his _right _arm—and staggered, feeling the poison surge through his veins. He knew it would only be moments before he passed out.

"Sango," he rasped harshly, "get behind me."

She caught Hiraikotsu upon its return trip, glancing back at him. Blood and dirt matted her thick hair.

"I'm going to open the kazaana," he said. "Stand behind me."

She did as he asked, planting her weapon in the ground to brace herself against his back as Miroku ripped the rosary from his hand. A roar of wind filled the cavern, the spiders shrieking and clawing at the ground as they were inevitably drawn into the void. Short, rough lancelets of pain shot up Miroku's arm through the rest of his body, and he gritted his teeth, gripping his arm tightly with his other hand. He needed to hold out as long as he could, for Sango's sake. He didn't want her to take on these creatures alone.

His hand began to turn purple. Miroku cried out as the skin on his palm suddenly stretched, and the wind grew stronger, sucking in the last of the youkai. Quickly, the monk wrapped the prayer beads around the kazaana, sinking to the ground. The pain clouded his vision, unrelenting.

He dimly registered Sango's voice shouting his name, heard her sink down beside him, grasping his shoulders. He tried to tell her he was all right, that he just needed to rest, but his lips could only form her name as he sank into darkness.

-

-

-

Through her mirror, a small girl watched the houshi and the taijiya as they settled into a village, the taijiya's face streaked with tears as she asked for a room, supporting the unconscious houshi by the arm. The girl watched as the maid prepared a room for them, helping the taijiya to lay the houshi out on a futon. She brought hot water and a cloth and offered the taijiya company, but she refused. She refused to even bathe, and sat there covered in youkai stink, keeping careful watch over her companion.

From over the girl's shoulder, a boy watched, his face riven by pain that he did not understand.

-

-


	2. The Deal

**Chapter Two: The Deal**

The candle was burning low in a pool of wax. Sango blinked sleepy eyes and wrung the wet cloth out in the bowl that the maid had given her. The innkeeper had offered to call in a doctor, but Sango had refused, stating that she could take care of the problem herself. That had been hours ago. And no matter how many times Sango tried to keep his fever down and his body cool, nothing seemed to work. Still, she didn't call for help.

Her gaze went to the spider bite on his right arm, positioned just a little above the kazaana. She had done her best to draw out the poison and had covered the bite with a bit of salve from underneath her plate armor, but Miroku's hand was still that sickening shade of purple.

She was scared and worried, but he had at least drifted in and out of consciousness a few times as she cared for him. His breathing was regular, and his heartbeat was strong. He would live through this, of course he would, because he had been poisoned much worse than this before. But Sango was still worried.

And so she dragged the wet cloth across his forehead, and down his neck, and studied his face carefully for a reaction. She thought she saw his eyebrow twitch slightly.

"Houshi-sama," she whispered.

Leaning over him as she was, she should have known that his hand would unfailingly find the curve of her bottom, but she still stiffened in surprise when it happened. She didn't slap him, as her dignity usually called for. She simply sighed in relief, because he was awake, and peeled the offending appendage away from her derriere.

"You're awake," she breathed as he opened his eyes and looked at her for the first time in many hours. There was a small smile on his lips. She pinched the top of his hand just slightly so that he would know she still didn't appreciate being groped, but she wasn't angry with him.

"What time is it?" His voice was hoarse.

"I'm not sure." Sango glanced out the window. "It's been dark for several hours. It must be the middle of the night."

His eyes showed concern. "You should be resting, Sango, not fretting over a houshi who has had far more severe injuries."

She bit her lip. "Houshi-sama, your hand…"

He followed her gaze, frowning. Slowly, he flexed the fingers of his right hand, and had to suppress a groan. Short lancelets of white hot pain shot up his arm, seeming to go straight into his chest. Sango noticed his grimace.

"Houshi-sama…"

"I'm fine, Sango," he breathed, and smiled for her sake.

But she saw through his ruse.

"Don't lie to me," she said sternly, scooting a little closer to him. "Don't you think I've known you long enough now to tell when you're not being truthful?" She paused, and contemplated her lap a moment before continuing. "Maybe I didn't get all the poison out…it must be my fault…"

"Sango," he said, cutting her off, "it's not your fault. I'm deeply grateful that you cared for me. You have done the best you can. It's just that…the kazaana is not as strong as it used to be. It is becoming more prone to injury. That must be the way of the curse."

She continued to glare at him. "You say this like you knew this would happen."

He didn't meet her eyes, didn't answer, and Sango knew the truth behind her statement.

"You—you _stupid _houshi!" She burst out, slamming her fists into the ground. "I can't believe you would do that, just because of _kumo _youkai! I could have handled it, I could have gotten them all with Hiraikotsu, it wasn't even necessary to…to…" She trailed off, her voice breaking, and turned away from him.

"Sango…" He lifted himself up slowly, and winced as another wave of pain rolled over him.

She turned back around and grabbed at his shoulders, forcing him back down. "You shouldn't be moving yet, Houshi-sama," she said, and for a moment it seemed her anger was forgotten. "The poison will only spread more throughout your body."

"I'm feeling a lot better," Miroku reassured her, although this was far from the truth. In reality, he was certain that he _should _be feeling better by now, but if anything, he was beginning to feel worse. He couldn't understand it; it was only a baby spider bite. How could it be affecting him this badly?

"You need to stop using your kazaana for a while," Sango was saying, dipping the wet rag into the bowl again. "Your ofuda work well, and you have your staff…You are an excellent fighter without the wind tunnel, Houshi-sama." She seemed to be trying to convince herself. "You'll need to be strong for the final battle against Naraku."

Miroku swallowed a lump in his throat. "Sango, I…"

_You needn't tell her._

_Now is as good a time as any._

_She'll only worry more._

_But she deserves to know._

He cleared his throat. "Sango, there is something I need to tell you."

She paused in the act of wringing out the cloth, and looked at him.

Miroku took a deep breath. "Not long after we left Shima-dono, I disappeared for a few days, do you remember?"

"Yes," she replied. "I let you borrow Kirara."

He nodded. "I went to Mushin-sama's. I had to…ask him a few questions. Check up on…" He trailed off, and glanced at his right hand. Sango understood.

"What did he say, Houshi-sama?" she asked cautiously, her voice very quiet.

He looked into her warm brown eyes, and considered lying to her. But the words were out before he could think again. "He told me that I had less than a year to live."

She sucked in her breath. "But…but he was just kidding, right? He always jokes about that." Now she was wringing her hands desperately.

Slowly, Miroku shook his head. "Not this time."

Her eyes were glimmering now, and Miroku hated himself. "But…it can't be…he has no way of knowing…"

"He knew the lifespan of my father's kazaana," Miroku said, babbling the truth, spewing it all out even though he wanted desperately to lie now. "He was about my age when it consumed him."

The tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes. Before they could fall down her cheeks, Miroku sat up again and reached out, drawing her into him.

She cried quietly into his robes as he ran his hands through her hair, unable to say anything to calm her. When she fell asleep, her hands curled into his kesa, he sat with her until dawn.

-

-

-

Naraku flowed out of the darkness, materializing in the middle of a quiet forest. It was completely empty in this cool grove, save for an old woman who sat hunched over a fire, and seemed not at all startled by the sudden appearance of Naraku.

"Tsubaki," he said, walking over to her. "I trust you have been well."

"Don't exchange pleasantries with me, Naraku," she replied, stoking her fire. In the orange glow, the wrinkles in her face gave her a distinctly birdlike look. "You are here to discuss the terms of a job, are you not?"

"Indeed. You have agreed, then? I can enlist you in my services once more?"

Tsubaki's lips twisted. "That depends on what you wish me to do, Naraku."

He smiled maliciously. "I am sure you remember the houshi that was traveling with Inuyasha."

"I recall there being a houshi, yes."

"I wish to kill him. He is nothing but a bother, and the taijiya will surely be stricken with grief if he were to die. It would be easy then to dispose of her. Is there a way to kill the monk indirectly?"

Tsubaki snorted. "Are you telling me you can't dispose of a monk, Naraku?"

"I don't wish to do it myself. If the monk dies of other causes, his friends' grief will be directed elsewhere; they will be distracted. It would be a perfect opportunity to destroy them."

"What about the curse you placed upon him?"

"The curse has yet to run its course. I want this done now."

"I see." She stared into the fire. "Well, lay out your terms, then."

He explained everything in detail, and Tsubaki listened in silence. When he finished, she was grinning wickedly.

"I will require one of his possessions," she said, "but he will die painlessly in his sleep by the time the sun has risen and fallen three times."

-

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End file.
